(Written originally for Combatwords.)
I am Europa.
The bull stares at me from the other side of the fence, and I am transfixed. I've never seen a bull like this one, snow white despite lying in a rain-wet field churning with mud. The bull plods forward, his deep chest bumping against the rail. The damp wood flakes beneath my nails.
I am Europa, and this is my moment. The chance encounter which will change my life. All I have to do is grasp the horns.
The bull sticks his head over the fence, nostrils flaring as he inhales my scent. He's taller than I am, and the fence between us might as well be toothpicks. He sticks his nose in my face and I raise my hand, slow and easy. One toss of his head, and I won't even know what hit me. He snorts when I touch him, and his nose is velvet.
I am Europa, and this bull is my god. Zeus, Poseidon, Jehovah, Allah, Odin, Thor, or Amun-Ra. He leans into my touch, and I am blessed. I am alive. I am electric.
The bull lifts his head and meets my eyes. This is the moment. If I climb the fence, I can be his consort; I can be the queen of a foreign land.
The bull sneezes.
The fine mist of mucus is nothing to the spray of thick globs of gunk. I am coated in it, and my friend squeals beside me.
"Gross! Eww! C'mon, let's go. It's almost five, and your parents are coming."
I take my foot down off the fence and wipe my face on my sleeve.
Maybe I'm not Europa after all.
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